This weekend, I had the privilege of attending the Maranatha Christian Writers’ Conference. Perhaps the most invigorating part of this experience was swapping book recommendations.
This is the space between all life and death, Between his final cry and second-first breath;The stillness between singing and applause,Between the reign of love
Teach me, Lord, to number my daysInstead of counting sheep: To live as faithfully for the oneAs for the ninety-nine.May it be as I lay
Plowing the streets was necessary,But it leaves me, though safer, sad.In that unblemished blanket from heaven’s stores,I saw for the first time, at last,The gleaming,
Horrors.There is no other wordFor the things I have seen,And sat helplessly by—Useless. My own son, ripped from my armsBy a force I could not